Savoring My Passage - the monthly journal of A. C. Gray

May 2012
October 2012
September 2012
August 2012
JULY 2012
June 2012
May 2012
April 2012
March 2012
February 2012
January 2012
Christmas/December 2011
November 2011
October 2011
September 2011
August 2011
July 2011
June 2011
May 2011
January 2011
October 2010
July 2010
January 2010
February 2010
March 2010
Savoring Every Moment
Arbreux Retrospective
L'Abri Retrospective
April 2010
May 2010
June 2010
August 2010*
September 2010
November 2010
Christmas/December 2010
February, 2011
March 2011
Moments of Reason
April 2011
Newspaper Readers

Please note:   Images on this wesite have been obtained from a number of sources including National Geographic, Weather Underground, my own image files, and others.  Insofar as possible I have tried to contact owners of copyrighted materials to obtain approval for use.  Some images are used temporarily while approval/disapproval is pending.. 

Shenandoah Spring

Shenandoah Spring


Used by Permission


The calendar turns to May and with it come reveries of other spring times when Mom would clip bouquets of roses, iris, and greenery to decorate the graves of loved ones at Grove Hill Cemetery.  The first day of May was also the safe day to begin planting the garden free of frost.    And in Kentucky where I grew up, the first Saturday in May was thrilling because the world’s fastest horses competed in the Kentucky Derby.  Nostalgia reigned because as the horses were walking to the starting gate, all the world was focused on Churchill Downs, just thirty miles from where I lived the first eighteen years of my life. (Alas, I was never to actually see the Derby.) But when the orchestra played Stephen Foster’s My Old Kentucky Home the refrain would haunt me down the years with wistful longing no matter where I might be on the planet.

Back then, only one month of school left for the year was uppermost in the minds of all the kids.  As the decades have passed, the month of May and the ending words of C. S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia have since lingered in my thoughts: "There was a real railway accident," said Aslan softly. "Your father and mother and all of you are — as you used to call it in the Shadow-Lands — dead. The term is over; the holidays have begun. The dream is ended; this is the morning."....And as he spoke he no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. . . . And we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world had only been the cover and title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story, which no one on earth has read, which goes on forever, in which every chapter is better than the one before."    [from the final paragraphs of The Last Battle by C.S. Lewis]The Bridge at Spring Mill State Park, IN

“Things grow old and stale, not because they are old, but because we cease to see them.  Whole vibrant significant worlds around us disappear within the somber mists of familiarity.  Whichever way we look the roads are dull and barren.  There is a tree at our gate we have not seen in years: a flower blooms in our door-yard more wonderful than the shining heights of the Alps!” 

David Grayson in The Open Road

 Spring arrived today!  

THE world is too much with us; late and soon,

          Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:

          Little we see in Nature that is ours;

          We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!

          The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;

          The winds that will be howling at all hours,

          And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;

          For this, for everything, we are out of tune;

          It moves us not.--Great God! I'd rather be

          A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;                        

          So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,

          Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;

          Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;

          Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.

                                  William Wordsworth

    Spring Sheep


Alpine Spring

    Alpine Spring

 For I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed unto Him against that Day.    St. Paul to Timothy 112

Spring Doesn't Get any better than this!!
Spring Glory
Spring in the air